


flay you alive (over and over)

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sex in the morning is his favorite kind of sex.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	flay you alive (over and over)

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through 4x08.
> 
> So, at first I thought this would just be sexy, but then it sort of went dark because I started watching the closing scene of 4x08 as much as the opening scene. Hopefully it works. Title somewhat lifted from Blue Foundation's "Eyes On Fire."

Sex in the morning is his favorite kind of sex. She can't know that; she can't understand how much it means to him that she's still here, or that she's so obviously bouncy and happy and interested in the fact that he too is happy.

(There are no regrets on this morning after, and that's a miracle, no doubt.)

She can't know that as she moves her lips down his chest, as her tongue darts out, and as her hand reaches up to touch his face that he's overwhelmed and overstimulated. Her legs and belly glide over his cock and she has no idea that he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the fact that her kisses tasted like his toothpaste.

( _Don't come, don't come, just...fresh, minty breath, that's right_.)

She's a young vampire, she doesn't get it yet that teeth brushing and putting your underwear back on are the human things that she's holding on to; neither are necessary, but they make this feel as sweet and tender and unbelievable as only sex with Elena could ever be.

So as she continues to slide down him, he opens his eyes just in time to see her look up at him with an incredibly warm smile on her face. And then she opens her mouth and takes his cock between her lips and his problem becomes even more dire. He jerks her up, rather unceremoniously, and her eyes go wide. He flips them over and whispers against her lips, "I want to come inside you, not before," and she seems to understand without him having to hold up a sign. _You make me crazy, and we don't have all night anymore, so this time we can't have do-overs._

Even so, he doesn't rush it. She can be a little late for school; he sure as hell doesn't care about that anymore than she does. And he wants to return the pleasurable torture some, so he sets about kissing her and caressing her all over. He lets her keep her sexy underwear on because, well, it's sexy, especially in conjunction with his shirt. 

(If it were up to him, this would be her wardrobe all of the time. And they would never leave this room, ever, ever again.)

He teases her nipple through the black lace with his thumb, and it thrusts up invitingly. Elena moans softly and then her hand grabs his, dragging it—or attempting to drag it to where she wants it, but he steers her away.

She moves restlessly against him, panting and whimpering. "Damon," she says, when he doesn't do what she wants, but he just grins against her lips. It changes rapidly, the urgency he felt moments before when he pulled her off his cock returning full force when she grabs him in her hand and fists him hard, twice. "Now," she commands, and he doesn't need to be told again. He tears her panties out of his way and gets himself between her legs.

She clutches at him—vagina, arms, legs—so much so that he feels like he's being swallowed whole, like he could happily disappear inside her. And he could. This could be the end of everything, because he's certain he can never feel more joy than he does right now, knowing his patience has paid off and that she wants him— _needs_ him—so much that she's starting to spasm beneath him when he's only shoved himself inside her a few times.

Her hands clench against his back, and then her nails dig in unexpectedly. The pleasure-pain hits him blindly, pushing him to the edge even faster than he anticipated. It roars through them both at the same time, and he knows her blissed-out expression is a mirror of his own as he collapses on top of her.

Her palms soothe the wounds on his back and he wonders how the hell that happened. But then he turns his face into her neck, breathing her in, and he knows the answer.

_Elena._

 

 

_Elena._

He watches her gathering wine bottles. So simple, so domestic. It's all new, and yet it's all so familiar. Like everything with Elena, he feels like she's always been there, intrinsically a part of him. Like Stefan; like family. Like no one else ever except his brother, but in a whole different way than that, too.

And he needs to put a stop to it, because it's all a lie.

She senses him before he says anything and when she turns to look at him, he knows this is going to be the hardest fucking thing he's ever done.

And then, somehow it's even harder than he could dream, because she plants his hand over her heart and he can feel the way it beats so heavily (for him? because she knows what he wants so desperately? because the only thing she can do is try to please him?), and then she touches his face, and he knows she can feel his heart, too.

(Most days, he'd say it never beat at all until he met Elena Gilbert.)

He bites his tongue and tries to find the right words, but she drags his hand down to her breast and her fingers slide around to the back of his neck and then she's kissing him.

(He is going straight to hell, one way ticket, no question. Do not pass "Go," do not collect $200.)

They make it up to his room somehow, and Damon stops thinking. Because if he thinks he'll never enjoy this, and if this is going to be the last time, he is going to fucking enjoy it. So when she pulls his pants down and takes him into her mouth, he doesn't protest, he just lets her do whatever she wants, and he comes too quickly, but she smiles and yanks his fingers into her wet panties too happily for it to bother him.

He strokes her, watching her face the whole time; she bites her bottom lip when she gets close, so he moves his fingers away from the primary target. Instead he shoves three inside her, and she chokes on garbled words of praise as he curls them expertly, driving her perilously close to the edge while not dropping her off it.

By the time she finally comes, she's cursing him, and gushing all over his hand. He dumps her back on the bed, but pulls her to the end of the mattress so he can spread her wide. He cleans her up, his tongue running laps around her clitoris until she's crying actual tears as she begs for him to finish her off again. 

When he enters her, she is raw and worn out and so pliable beneath him, he knows he can drag it out again, because she's got no fight left in her.

He knows by the time he comes the second time that she is over-used, exhausted, and probably doesn't want him to touch her ever again, even if three mind-numbing orgasms in a row seems like a particularly sexy thing. 

The reality is, though, that she curls up against him, and her hand grips his upper arm as though he might wander off. She falls asleep, lying in the middle of his bed as if she's always been there, as if she'll always _be_ there.

He hates her and he loves her, just the way he loves and hates being a vampire. The pros are amazing, but the cons pretty much make everything else unbearable.

He lies there, his hand in her hair, with new plans formulating in his head. What he'll say, how he'll set her free, how he'll be the better man, for real, finally. In actuality. Completely, totally committed to preserving Elena's right to choose.

(Ironic how he gives a shit about that now.)

(Even more ironic: how she will talk him out of it, every time.)


End file.
